


Love to Spare

by oldenuf2nb



Series: If Wishes Were Children [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Children of Characters, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Politician Harry Potter, Wizengamot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 07:43:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16719231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldenuf2nb/pseuds/oldenuf2nb
Summary: With both of their children off at Hogwarts and University, Draco is at loose ends. But his eldest has an idea…





	Love to Spare

**Author's Note:**

> For my darling sassy_cissa, for her birthday.

Wizengamot Senior Representative Harry Potter sat at his desk in his chambers, pouring over the latest bit of legislation being promoted by the opposing party. It was the same old shite; a law to limit squibs to certain hours on Diagon Alley. With the new term at Hogwarts just a few weeks away, this was merely an attempt to keep family’s with squib children away during peak shopping hours. It was stupid and needlessly cruel, like most of the nonsense that crossed his desk with Delores Umbridge’s name attached. He wasn’t one to hold a grudge, but every time he picked up a pen and looked at the scars on the back of his hand he had ample reason. Honestly, he just wished the old bat would either retire or conveniently stop breathing.

A polite knock sounded on the frame of his door and he looked up, his heart lifting when he saw Jamie standing there.

“Hi, Pop.”

“Jamie!” Harry smiled, rising from his seat. He ignored the creak in his knees and crossed to his son, engulfing him in a hug. Jamie returned it, never one to be shy in his affection. “Come in, come in,” Harry said. “Have a seat.”

Jamie took the offered chair and crossed his long legs, and the movement was so elegant and he looked so much like Draco but for his raven’s wing black hair that it made Harry feel a bit misty eyed.

His son was a grown up. Eighteen years old, fresh out of Hogwarts and spending the summer before he began study at the Wizarding University shadowing his Aunt Hermione at her philanthropic organization. She’d begun it when her children were still in diapers and it had grown to include funding for most of the major wizarding charities in Britain. Harry teased her that it had actually begun at Hogwarts with S.P.E.W., but she didn’t find it nearly as funny as Ron did. Jamie wanted to work with her when he graduated, helping to further causes that had always been near to Harry’s heart; widows and orphans, pure blood rights ironically, and reversing some of the more strident laws that were passed immediately in the war’s aftermath.

“So.” Harry leaned back in his chair, his fingers laced across his still flat stomach. He was proud of the fact he’d stayed lean, even if he did have to work at it more now than he had when he was younger. He was 42, with a few strands of silver threading through the black hair at his temples, but he knew he had to stay on top of what he ate and how much he exercised. His husband was also 42, but to him Draco didn’t look at bit different than he had at 25; still so stunningly beautiful he took Harry’s breath. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jamie smiled faintly. “Won’t buy the old, ‘I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by’ routine?”

Harry studied him with a smile. “Were you?”

“We were, actually.” Jamie smoothed his hand down the crease in his slacks, another move reminiscent of his other father. Even his hands looked like Draco, and Harry watched them fondly, waiting for Jamie to go on. “We did rounds at Colin’s House with the resident Healer.”

“Ahh.” Harry nodded.

Colin’s House was a home for orphaned children with wizarding backgrounds, begun in the years immediately following the war by Colin Creevley’s parents as a tribute to the son they lost during the Battle of Hogwarts. Started modestly enough in a small house just outside of wizarding London, it had grown to take up the other half of the city block occupied by St. Mungo’s Hospital. Harry was a stalwart supporter even though he’d never been to the new location.

“While Aunt Hermione was meeting with the board, I took a walk around the wards.” Jamie stopped, his pale eyes troubled. “There are so many kids, dad. And they’re so understaffed.”

“They are,” Harry agreed. He’d heard as much from Hermione, too. “It’s a perpetual battle for enough money and man power.”

“And the babies.” Jamie frowned. “Those aren’t war orphans, Papa. Those are just babies whose families don’t want them.”

“There can be lots of reasons for the babies, Jamie. Sometimes the parents aren’t in a position to raise a child.”

“And sometimes the kids are squibs and their pure-blood families don’t want them.” Jamie’s mobile mouth pulled down in the corners.

“That’s true. Sometimes, they’re squibs.” Harry stared at his eldest for a few moments. “What’s on your mind, James. You know you can tell me.”

“I know.” Jamie stared at his fingers. “I’m worried about Dad.”

Harry leaned back in his chair, rocking gently. “Why, son?”

Jamie looked up, his gray eyes solemn. “With Cissa getting ready to leave for Hogwarts, he’s doing exactly what he did when I got my letter. He’s pretending everything is fine while he gets more and more withdrawn. Last night he stood in the old nursery staring out the window for the longest time. And this morning he was so preoccupied I had to tell him goodbye three times before he heard me.” He leaned forward, earnest. “When I left for Hogwarts, he had Hurricane Cissa to deal with,” Harry smiled reluctantly, “but this time, the house is going to be empty, and with me at University and you occupied with the Wizengamot, I’m worried about him being alone all of the time.”

Harry rubbed his fingers across his chin, finding it rough. But then by this time in the afternoon, it usually was. “I’ve tried to convince him to go back for his potions Masters certification, but he just doesn’t seem interested.”

“Maybe he would be, if he knew the people the potions would be used for…”

Harry angled his head. “I know you’re trying to tell me something, son, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”

Jamie leaned forward, his expression earnest. “There are so many little kids at Colin’s, Papa. So many who have no one. The staff does the best they can, but there are only so many of them, and so many hours in the day.”

“Are you suggesting we adopt some of them?” Harry grinned. The idea had occurred to him, but he also wanted some time with just Draco to himself. He could also acknowledge, however, that with his time spent in the Wizengamot Draco would spend hours each day alone.

“Well, no,” Jamie gave a short laugh. “Although I wouldn’t mind a brother or two to balance things out with my sister.”

“Think it would take more than one, do you?”

“I think it would take a small regiment.” Now Harry laughed. “But my thought was…” Jamie twisted his fingers, something he’d always done when he was nervous.

“Be easy, Jamie,” Harry murmured, and he watched Jamie’s shoulders hike as he took in a deep breath, then slowly relax. He seemed to center himself, and looked into Harry’s eyes.

“I remember what Dad was like with Cissa. Even as exhausted as I knew he was, he was really…brilliant with her. I mean, so were you,” he said quickly. “But Dad was just…so – “ He seemed at a loss, but Harry understood.

“He was the same way with you. He seemed to have an instinct with both of you I didn’t have. He knew what was wrong when you cried, what you needed whether you were hungry or teething or just needed a cuddle.” Harry paused, remembering how he’d felt when he watched Draco holding one of their babies in his arms. He’d never be able to describe it, other than he’d been in awe. In awe of the partner who carried his children, in awe of the father he became. He hadn’t had a particularly good role model and yet he was a brilliant parent.

“I just thought, with so many babies who need someone like Dad, maybe we could convince him to… I don’t know… maybe volunteer there?”

Harry’s first thought was to say there was no way Draco would do it, but then he paused. How did he know? With both of the kids off to Hogwarts and University, maybe he would.

Harry studied his son. “Isn’t the fund raiser for Colin’s House coming up soon?”

Jamie nodded. “September 3rd,” he answered. “And it’s actually on site this year.”

Harry rocked pensively. “We can’t be obvious about it. It has to be his idea.”

“You have to get him there.”

Harry grimaced. “I’ll get him there.”

Now he just had to figure out how.

 

“I won’t be fit company,” Draco argued.

“You only have to be fit company for me, love,” Harry took his dress robes from the wardrobe and hung them on the door. “It’s just drinks and dinner, a short tour, and then we can come home. No later than nine, I promise. But I promised Hermione I’d actually attend this year, and if I go back on that I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Then you go.” Draco was lounging on the chaise in the large bedroom. He was wearing loose slacks and a dark jumper, and he looked tired. Harry knew better; Yes, Draco was tired but he was also depressed and unless Harry got him up and moving this could linger for weeks.

Harry couldn’t blame him. The last weeks before Cissa left for Hogwarts had been hectic, crowded with shopping trips and sleep overs. They celebrated her eleventh birthday with a large, extended family party and then spent an afternoon at Diagon Alley buying everything in sight. Then it was September first, and Harry, James and an almost painfully composed Draco were putting Cissa, giggling and squealing with her friends, on the train. James moved into his dorm on campus the next day, and Harry didn’t think Draco had spoken four sentences since. He walked over to his husband, sitting next to his hip on the chaise. He caught one of Draco’s beautiful hands, linking their fingers then lifting his hand, pressing his lips to the back of it.

“Sweetheart,” Harry murmured, his mouth tracing over the bony knuckles. “Please come with me.”

Draco sighed, and it sounded like it came to his soul. “Harry, please. I don’t want to go.”

“I know. But I can’t just leave you here alone.”

“Don’t be foolish.” Draco pulled his hand away. “I’m here alone all the time, now. Tonight won’t be any different.”

Harry winced. “Draco.”

Draco looked toward the windows, his face drawn and pale. “I’m sorry. That was bitchy, and it isn’t your fault.”

Harry leaned further over him. “It isn’t yours, either. Kids grow up, sweetheart. And totally aside from the fact that your darling daughter sorted Gryffindor and you’re out of sorts,” Draco’s mouth fell open and he smacked Harry’s chest, “you’re allowed to go out, have a drink or two, maybe dance with your husband.”

“Have my feet trampled, more like.” He sounded cross but there was a tiny flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Clearly, you’ve forgotten how much improved I am since you gave me dance lessons.” Harry put one knee on the chaise and straddled Draco’s slender hips. Draco looked up at him with a baleful stare.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I think I’m trying to seduce my husband.”

“That desperate to go to Granger’s do?”

Harry dipped his hips and pressed his groin to the front of Draco’s slacks. “Maybe I’m just that desperate to make love to you.” He leaned close, pressing his lips to Draco’s cheek. Gods, he loved the smell of the man. “You have to admit it’s been a while.”

And it had been. With the kids home and then the hysteria before Cissa went off to school, it had been weeks since Harry had touched Draco sexually. Being this close was both wonderful, and torture. Feeling Draco, smelling him, made Harry almost instantly hard. He rolled his hips is a slow circle.

“Come on, love,” he whispered against Draco’s ear, “haven’t you missed me?”

Draco turned his head but he didn’t pull away. “In your dreams, Potter.”

Harry lifted his hips, reaching between them to palm Draco’s cock through his trousers. He was already half hard, and Harry gave him a sly smile. “Just my dreams?”

Draco rolled his eyes, then hooked his slim arm around Harry’s neck. “Oh, shut up.”

Harry leaned down until their lips were inches apart. “You want me.” Draco slid his fingers into Harry’s hair, but instead of stroking Harry’s scalp he fisted his hand and yanked. “Hey,” Harry complained. “That hurt.”

“Don’t be smug,” Draco scolded. “It’s unattractive.”

“God forbid.” Harry eased back just enough to open Draco’s trousers, then slipped his hand inside. “And you must really trust me, to yank on my hair when my hand’s on your prick.”

“I trust that you don’t want to damage something you enjoy so much.” Draco made a soft sound when Harry’s fingers found their way through the opening in the front of his silky boxers and wrapped around his cock. Harry began to stroke him in a slow, sinuous rhythm.

“Feel good?”

Draco grunted softly and Harry could feel Draco’s moist breath against his cheek. He paused just long enough to unbutton and unzip his own slacks and to shove them down below his hips. He pressed forward and wrapped his hand around both of their erect cocks. When Draco felt Harry’s prick alongside his, he dug his fingers into Harry’s shoulder.

“Feel good?” Harry asked again, stroking them together, thrusting through his own fist.

“Wait,” Draco said and Harry stopped. Draco grabbed Harry’s wrist and pulled his hand away, brought it to his mouth and licked the palm, then returned it to their straining cocks. Harry slicked Draco’s spit over the swollen lengths, and Draco sighed. “Better now.”

“There’s lube ten feet away in the night stand,” Harry said, but he didn’t stop stroking them.

“I don’t want to wait.”

Draco began to move beneath him, and Harry moved in counter point. It wasn’t long before there was slick precome to add to the equation, and Harry tightened his fist.

“Come with me tonight,” Harry whispered against Draco’s ear. “Please.”

“Stop talking,” Draco ordered.

“Come with me,” Harry persisted. “You know how hot you are in your dress robes, what seeing you in them does to me.” He added a twist over both of their full, sensitive heads and Draco shuddered.

“Oh, for fucks sakes, stop talking!”

“Then say yes,” Harry crooned, his mouth hovering directly over Draco’s ear. He licked the gracefully curved shell. “Come with me, Draco. Let me show the world the beautiful man I love. Please.” Draco caught his breath but Harry knew he was getting to him. Draco’s long thighs were trembling, his stomach quivering beneath the backs of Harry’s fingers. “I love you so much.” Harry pressed his lips to Draco’s throat, then pulled some of the pale skin between his lips and sucked. “Come with me. Please.”

Draco’s back arched, his breath harsh. “Fine, just… shut the fuck up!”

Harry smiled against Draco’s neck but made sure his husband didn’t see it. It wouldn’t do to actually appear smug. Again.

Moments later he felt Draco’s cock pulse within his hand and his hot, slick come spilled over Harry’s fingers. Draco made a ragged sound and tightened his arm around Harry’s neck, and he followed him over, his lips lifting to Draco’s and sealing over his mouth as he shuddered. Their come mingled in his fist and he continued to move his hand on them until Draco curled his fingers into his shoulder and dug in his nails. He dragged his lips from Harry’s, gasping.

“Potter, stop. Please.”

Harry released him, then pressed his forehead to Draco’s, his body weight held up with his other arm and hand. He hovered there until he felt the strength beginning to return to his legs.

“I need to wash my hands,” he was finally able to say breathlessly, “and you need to get ready to go.”

“Harry,” Draco began, his mouth curled down at the corners.

“No,” Harry said firmly, pushing back to his knees. “You said you’d go, And you have to change anyway.” Harry grinned at him. “You’ve got spunk all over your clothes.”

Draco looked down, then made a disgusted sound when he saw the blotches on his jumper.

“Come on, shower with me,” Harry said and held out his clean hand. “I’ll wash your back.”

Draco huffed as he tucked himself away then allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Harry hiked up his pants and grabbed Draco’s hand again, pulling him toward the bathroom.

“I really hate you, you know,” Draco groused.

Harry paused long enough to kiss the pout on his lips. “I know.” He smiled and pulled Draco into the ensuite.

 

Draco really did look amazing in his grey velvet dress robes. They clung to his long frame and outlined his arse in a particularly diverting manner, and Harry found himself staring whenever his husband was in front of him as they toured the very large rooms at ‘Colin’s House’.

They’d begun at the top of the old brick building, which would have been better suited as a storage house rather than an orphanage, but its location next to the hospital was good. Each floor was set up for a different age group, and so far they’d walked through the dorms for the eight to ten year olds and the five to seven year olds. There were obviously too many kids per floor even with the three matrons with each age group, and even Harry could see that they were outgrowing their clothes and the mattresses on the little cots needed replacing. Draco’s brow grew more and more furrowed as they toured, and Harry could almost hear his mind racing. When they finally arrived on the first floor Hermione asked them to tread softly in deference to the women trying to get fifteen newborn through two year olds to bed. She needn’t have worried; the moment she opened the door they could hear babies crying.

Two of the matrons were rocking fussy babies and the third was in a far corner apparently changing a nappy. That left one very unhappy child who looked about a year old clinging to the slats in the side of his crib, crying pitifully. Without saying a word to anyone Draco strode straight to the little boy and lifted him out of the crib, placing him on his hip. Harry watched as he turned to one of the women as he unconsciously rocked back and forth.

“Teething?” he asked.

“For Vinnie, there, yes,” she answered. “These two are colicky.”

Draco nodded. “And Vinnie is short for…?”

“Vincent,” she answered. “He has no surname. His mother left him at St. Mungo’s after giving birth. She was only about fifteen years old.”

Harry saw the brief moment of pain that passed through Draco’s eyes. Even though it hadn’t been his fault, he blamed himself for Vincent Crabbe’s death in the Room of Requirement. The infant stuck his fingers in his mouth, chewing on them as he studied the man who now held him. He was a cute little thing with huge cornflower blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair clinging to his head in damp curls. He could not have looked more different from their babies, and yet Draco held him with obvious comfort. He absently brushed the curls from the little boy’s sweaty forehead.

“Have you any ice?” Draco asked. The woman nodded, gesturing toward an old ice box in the far corner. He turned and strode toward it, opening the freezer. Harry could see the old muggle appliance was being run by magic; the plug laid useless next to it on the floor.

Draco returned with an ice cube wrapped in a paper napkin, and he handed it to Harry just long enough to turn the baby so he was lying in the cradle of his arms. He then took it back and offered it to the little boy. “Would you like this?” he said gently. “Would you?” A little hand made a grab for it. “Oh, no. You must let me hold it, but I’ll give it to you if you stop fussing. Can you do that?” Huge eyes blinked up at him. Harry’s breath caught at the trust in those eyes. “All right, open up and I’ll rub it on your gums.” Draco pressed the ice cube to the baby’s lips and he looked startled, giggling. Draco smiled. “Oh, you think that’s funny? Shall we try it again?” He touched the ice cube the child’s plump lower lip and he smiled but opened his mouth. Even standing a few feet away, Harry could see how red and swollen his upper gums were. Draco’s face softened. “Ah, sweetheart,” he said. “No wonder you’re unhappy. Here, this will help.” He pressed the ice cube to the angry gums and instantly, the stiff little body seemed to go limp. Draco looked up at the matron, who watched him in bemusement. “Have you no paediatric pain potions?”

She shook her head. “There just isn’t any room in the budget, and they’ve been deemed an unnecessary expense.”

Draco turned on Hermione, his eyes fierce. She held up her hands. “Don’t look at me; I’m just the professional consultant. I don’t make inside decisions about where the money is spent.”

“If Potter and I donated money, could we specify where it went?”

Hermione looked thoughtful. “I don’t know, but I can certainly find out.”

“If you would, please. While you do that, I’ll just stay here and see if I can’t get this poor child to sleep without pain potions for his swollen gums.”

Hermione and Harry exchanged a look, both more than a little amused. “I’ll take my group back to the main hall and then I’ll find out for you.”

“Thank you.” Draco turned away, rocking the baby and pressing the ice to his gums.

Hermione led the bemused group of formally dressed people back toward the doors to the main lobby, and Harry remained, smiling at the matron. He saw the moment she realized who he was, looked quickly between him and Draco. Harry gentled his smile and turned to another crib where another wide eyed baby looked up at the ceiling. He bent over her.

“Hello, baby.”

Her little arms lifted, and he put his hands beneath her arms, lifting her, cradling her solid little body against his chest. He turned and looked at Draco, who was holding Vinnie’s now limp little form. His eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and regular, and Draco looked up and saw Harry holding another of the babies. His mouth twisted.

“You think you’re so smart,” he said without heat. “Was this the plan all along? Get me in here and get me hooked in?”

“Actually, I can’t take that much credit. It was Jamie’s idea.”

“Jamie?”

“Well, his idea to get you here. I think he knew once you looked around you wouldn’t be able to ignore the issues.”

Draco sighed. “My son is more Slytherin than I thought.” He looked around the room at the ratty, patched mattresses and the too small onsies the babies were wearing. The child Harry held had two little toes peaking through the strained thin flannel covering her foot, and he gripped one and wiggled it. The baby giggled, pulling her foot back.

“He’s a good boy,” Harry murmured. Draco nodded.

“That, he is.” Draco inhaled deeply. “I suppose walking away from this would be extremely ungrateful to him, wouldn’t it?”

Harry reached out with his free hand, curling it around Draco’s nape and drawing him close. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, love,” he murmured before kissing him softly. “But I think he was right; they need you here.”

Draco leaned against his side. “It will be nice to be needed.”

Harry frowned and looked at him. “Hey, I need you.”

Draco nudged him lightly in the ribs with his elbow. “You know what I mean,” he said. “I know you need me, but you aren’t dependent on me. I like being the center of the universe, the way I was with the children. You know about my ego.” He gave Harry a wry grin.

“I know where our children are concerned, you’ve been the most selfless person I’ve ever known. And I know if you choose to get involved, because it is your choice, Draco, you’ll make the lives of all of these children better. Just like you’ve done with ours. But the choice is up to you.”

He heard the doors open behind them, heard the measured step approaching, but Harry didn’t look anywhere but into Draco’s eyes. And he saw the moment he made up his mind.

“Draco?”

Draco turned and looked at Hermione, and Harry watched him.

“This is the director of Colin’s House, Mr. Waterford.”

Harry glanced over his shoulder in time to see the man’s lip curl slightly, and he straightened to his full height as he turned as well.

Harry really wasn’t big on being famous, but once in a while, he thought, it did come in handy. He saw the overweight man’s eyes widen in recognition. He also saw him glance between Draco and himself, and Harry thought ‘that’s right, you officious prick’.

“Mr. Waterford, this is Harry Potter and his husband, Draco Malfoy-Potter. They want to talk to you about how they can help out here at Colin’s.”

All Harry had to do was look at Draco’s face, at the way his still faintly pointed chin lifted and his brows arched, to know he’d seen the man’s beginning sneer.

“How can I help you gentlemen?” Waterford asked, his voice polite but Harry could hear the faint tremor in it.

“Actually, I wanted to know something,” Draco spoke up. “If we were to choose to become sponsors here at Colin’s House, do we have any say in where the funds are allocated?”

“Uhm,” Waterford glanced nervously at Harry. “I’m sure we could work something out.”

Draco’s smile widened. “Excellent. To start with, let’s talk about your shortage of potions for the babies, shall we?”

Harry almost felt sorry for Waterford. Almost.


End file.
